He Lives in You
by Chris Boyce
Summary: Two wild but talking lions find themselves in strange company in a fearful land. All they want is to find a way home, but who can help them? One of their own kind perhaps, but then just how much of "their kind" is he?
1. The Feeling

**He Lives in You**

**_1. The Feeling_**

The sun was falling swiftly, but still well over an hour before setting. The crumble-dry ground below now gave a little more warmth than the weakening sun above. It was the tail of a long day.

He laid full length, pressed down to the ground. No movement, even when flies crawled over his eyelids. Always looking forward, then momentarily to one side. She too lay, but slinking slowly. Her ears fixed ahead, their dark backs showing only to him.

Ahead, a group of white and black beasts, four-legged and alert: near on twenty ears straining to hear signs of what was already nearly upon them. The grass so dry that almost any movement within it was betrayed by rustles and crackles.

Less than twenty lengths now; close but not close enough. She moved forward again. He could watch her all day, as indeed he had. He could watch her forever. She slipped forward a half-length. Ears twitched and turned, and after a moment's stillness, they turned back and the heads fell. He closed his eyes for just a moment. He felt a warm pressure on his flank, as if another lay beside him. In the moment he remembered.

He opened his eyes, she was not there. Then came the cries, the whooping brays, the rattle and rush of hooves struggling for grip in the dust. Through it all came her voice, stabbed out between heaved breaths, "Nengwe, where the heck are you!"

He shot up, pushed forward, broke into a run and pressed on as hard as he could. The black and white milled around, mingling through the dust. Which was which, and which was he supposed to go after? Where? Which? In his headlong dash he stumbled, almost fell over, recovered but all the time the wall of stripes flew away. Full of dust and gasping for breath he slowed to a stand and looked back. She emerged well off to his nearside. She too stopped and shook her head with open falling jaw. "This just isn't getting us anywhere. We've been all day at this and barely got a touch to them. Nengwe, let's knock it on the head. Maybe we'll try later when its dark."

He was glad she wasn't angry. Falana wasn't so sleek when she was angry, and her claws could fall deep too. She turned away back toward the almost distant rock they shared. He watched, feeling proud that within her, their cub grew safe. Nengwe wasn't sure when it would be born, but it would be soon enough and this land would be their home. He looked about: this land was indeed a well-enough home for lion, many more than just the three of them. If these so-called zebra, very occasional migrators to these parts, demanded different tactics to the gemsbok Falana preferred to hunt then so be it. She, Nengwe was sure, would rise to the challenge. He felt sure that it had become a matter of pride for her to take one down. Best though, to not mention that to her.

He smiled breathily to himself, shaking his head, his mane tumbling around his ears. The air filled with dust once more. He had work to do, and dust never tasted great.

~oOOo~

"Nengwalamwe…"

Nengwe paused mid-stroke, lifting his head and looking about. For a moment a chill ran through him. Dogs, wild, painted dogs: could they be back? There had not been any signs of wild dogs in the area for almost two moons. They had not returned. Mtundu the baboon had been away for some time as well, and certainly he didn't sound like the voice and he would never have used Nengwe's full name. Wherever Falana was, she wasn't nearby either; Nengwe was alone amidst the sunset-red painted Silent Rocks. He was about to return to washing his foreleg when he was struck by the idea that the voice sounded like it was might be asking for something. That was ridiculous, he was alone, and no, he hadn't heard anything.

He washed on, spending the next hour or so into starry darkness cleaning his dust-ridden mane, or at least the most of it that he could reach. There was always one part, a swathe stretching from directly above his head, down the top of his neck to his shoulders, which he could never get to. His baboon companion, Mtundu, understood; his nimble fingers always managed to pick out the grasses and pests from there, and even made a passing attempt at washing it for him. Falana wasn't concerned either way, she neither noticed when he was clean, nor complained when he wasn't.

"Nengwe?"

He looked up again and broadened his lips. "Yes Falana?"

"Did you want me for something?"

"Err no. Nothing."

"Then why did you call me?"

"Call you? When?"

"A while ago. Have you been lying here since I left you?"

Nengwe got up slowly, stretching his forelegs. "Yes Falana." He leant forwards, stretching his hind to match. He had indeed been there for quite some time.

"They're still out there beyond the lugga: settled now. Just be quiet and they'll not know we're there until it's too late. Have you ever tasted zebra?"

"Yes Falana, I wasn't born last rains you know." He padded round Falana, sliding his tail along her flanks. "My mother often caught them, though my father always moaned that he preferred wildebeest."

"Alright," she nodded, "that makes you lead again."

The air was still. The zebra sounded content. Not quiet, no herd ever was, but untroubled. They rustled, chirped to each other, scraped hooves, even the rip of the not quite totally brown grasses; all these filled the thick air.

The lions slipped forward amidst thin grass that would have offered no cover by day. Falana listened and felt her way behind and a few lengths to Nengwe's offside. She could see a heaving horizon: above stars too many to name, beneath broken outlines of zebra with gaps to the ground below. Occasionally an eye would catch the thin light and shine out from the herd.

Less than fifteen lengths; almost close enough by day, but easily so by night. She waited for Nengwe to make his move. She would have seen him rise by his back, or his shoulders or, of course, his head. That though offered her little warning. Instead it was his tail that she watched. She looked for the twitches that grew into flicks and finally flailing that heralded his strike. She knew how this would go. By day it was all about not being seen, and hiding their true target when they were. By night it was all about seeing, and hearing, then running in so fast and hard that the prey barely knew what was happening. They were hit, and hit hard squarely in the ribs, bowling them over by sheer force and weight. This was indeed Nengwalamwe's kind of hunt.

Then it was on. Nengwe flicked his tail up and surged forward. Falana now had to gamble. Her task was simple: spread confusion and prevent the mark from escaping. She too rose, deliberately noisy, growling as she ran forwards, peeling away from Nengwe.

On hearing her, the herd began to panic: breaking into a run, only for some to attempt to turn back as they became aware of a massive shadow, a hole in the starlight, bearing down on them. One full grown female turned to try to make out what it might be. Realising her mistake, she tried to run to her companions, only for another snarling hole to appear before her. Then she crumpled over as the shadow crashed in, filling her with unbearable pain, tumbling sidelong to the ground, twisting over with the black mass. She didn't suffer long, Falana saw to that. Zebra was a dish best served warm.

For Nengwe the meal was a reminder of his cubhood. For Falana it was an unfamiliar but not entirely new experience. The two heard hyena calls as they ate, the calls closing in. The hyena couldn't yet smell the opened and partly devoured kill. Instead they had seen the confused and panicked zebra and heard the alarm calls of nearby grazers and they knew what that meant. Someone had made a kill nearby, and it wasn't them.

There was no need for the lions to defend the kill. They had as yet no family: no pride. The zebra was too heavy, even after taking their fill, or perhaps because of it, to drag back to the rock. Neither had any desire to get entangled with hyena so when the calls got too close they rose and left the kill, walking off heavily.

They had gone no more than five lengths when they stopped, and said to each other, "What Nengwe?"

"Falana?"

They stared. Falana tipped her head. Nengwe shrugged, widening his eyes.

"I need your help."

"Falana, you did hear that didn't you?"

"Yes Nengwe, I did."

"He was here. I felt him standing by me, leaning on me."

"No he couldn't be. He was right here by me."

"Who?"

"No idea. Come on, let's get home. If that zebra had anything wrong with it, I want to be home when it hits."

"But he's here, whoever it is. He's still here!"

"There's no one here but us Nengwe. Now come away. Let's get out of here before the hyenas catch on." Falana walked off briskly. Nengwe held back, peering into the moonless starlight. When his mate was almost out of sight, he broke into a loping run after her.

It was a little into the morning by the time they arrived back at the rock. They had both been unsettled by the voice, but now their meal was beginning to settle, and they were filling with the lethargy brought on by a stomach full of meat. It didn't take long for the pair to settle on the platform in the cave deep in the belly of the great rock. Soon, Falana's dreams were filled with running herds of zebra-men while Nengwe's nightmare returned: trees, endless trees, and at the centre of it all, a spindly iron tree that glowed and shone in the darkness.


	2. The Unmorning

**_2. The Unmorning_**

While Nengwalamwe always had been a light sleeper, Falana seemed capable of sleeping deeply and peacefully through practically anything. So as Nengwalamwe woke in the dark of the cave, Falana lay still at his side. He got up carefully, leaving her to sleep on, yawned and stretched and wandered toward the cave mouth. He took a look back to check she was still asleep and then stepped out on to the rock promontory.

The sun was a little lower than he expected, but well to the west. Nengwe struggled to make anything out against the brilliant light. It was already past noon, indeed it was well into the afternoon. He shuddered with the unexpected cold, wondering why he hadn't woken earlier.

He stopped and looked down. Instead of the sun-warmed rock he was familiar with the ground was grassed: tight, green grass, beautifully comfortable under pad. He looked around. Instead of looking down from the rock promontory to the plain below he looked around at a ring of trees some lengths away; unfamiliar trees, dense and dark. At the edge lay a line of undergrowth atop a low earth bank.

He shook his head and looked again. The trees remained. His breath quickened and his eyes widened. He cast about one more time and, dropping his ears back, turned and dashed back to the cave.

Nengwe slid to a halt a couple of lengths into the darkness, his heart still pounding. He heard Falana snoring lightly. She was here, he was here, but where was here? What was here? Gathering himself, he turned back slowly and looked out once more. It was still all there.

"Nengwe… wha… 's OK?"

He knew well enough not to answer: Falana was still well asleep and would not make anything of any reply he cared to make. He made one anyway. "Nothing Falana. It's alright." He crept to the cave mouth. Drew down to the ground and peered out. What was out there? Where were they? He knew he had to go out there, and for more than one reason. He'd have to go and find out.

He fought down a feeling to slide back into the cave and re-join Falana. Creeping forward he stole glances to both sides. Then he rose silently and slunk out in to the open, muttering, "Why does it have to be trees?"

~oOOo~

The woodland was open, light and airy. Underpad, occasional fallen twigs cracked, cushioned by fine leaf mould from the fresh green sparse canopy. The bark of the trees was smooth: roaned green amid silver brown with some thinner and flaking silver. The trunks sighed lightly in the breeze above which barely stirred the dappled air below.

The ground rose gently ahead and to Nengwe's offside. He looked, barely up; nothing stirred. Unlike the forests he had feared in before, this woodland, quite unlike those steaming dark, fetid, oppressive, treacherous confines, felt welcoming, as if the trees themselves smiled upon him. It didn't make him any less alert, or any more at ease: he never could be in closed country where he could see no further than ten or twenty lengths and where all he saw were the trees and not the wood.

Had he known it, the woods were alive with potential prey, all of it as yet unknown: so many new tastes to try, so many ways to find to catch them. That was not yet of any great concern. It was a mere barely noted interest. It would be a day or more before it came forward to fully occupy his mind.

What did worry him, almost to the point of obsession, was who was out there, hidden amongst the trees. Who or what might threaten him, and most importantly Falana and their unborn cub. It was clear that no lion could live in these woods. No lion ever had. A leopard perhaps, yes, that was possible. Some other, like the woods, unknown and unknowable cat of course, but certainly no lion. Yet Nengwe was there, and the unpalatable thought had already struck him that he might have to learn to live in these woods.

Having neither seen, heard nor smelt anything other than small birds rummaging around amid the leaf litter, Nengwe turned to walk in wide circle around the cave, all the while taking care to never reveal its existence, nor indeed its precious occupants. The breeze stiffened overhead, shuffling shadows over the lion below. He looked up, his fur fringed ears catching the folding slip-shuffle of the leaves. He afforded himself a light smile, and closing his eyes for just a moment he lowered his head. When he opened them again, less than twenty lengths ahead on the crest of the rise close to a stunted dead straight black almost bough-less tree stood what he knew would not be there: a lion, a full-maned male lion. The tree crown flicker-softly glowed.

The stranger spoke, "Nengwalamwe, son of Nengwala, welcome indeed t…."

Nengwe cut through the words; a growl rapidly rising up within him and exploding into a roar.

The stranger fell quiet and looked. He held his head high and just looked from open, honest eyes. He looked confident, proud possibly. A little like Nengwe's father had tried to do, but so often failed as his eyes had always been tinted with malice. The stranger seemed to simply be there, to stand tall, his forepaws close together, not braced like Nengwe's for a spring. His mane slipped down around his head, it held little of the tension that underlay Nengwe's. The stranger's high head accentuated his short body. Is coat was smooth and even, unmarred by wounds and head-to toe shone in golden brown with little countershading.

Nengwe, who despite having left some of his vanity behind when Falana fell pregnant, still spent a lot of time washing, felt tarnished in the face of the stranger. Did the stranger's mane sway minutely in the softest of the breeze? Was this his territory? Had Nengwe done it yet again, straying into another male's domain? And what a male: tall at the shoulder, feeling no need to ready for the strike. Who was this? Why was he here? Could he fight?

Nengwe, while never the biggest or strongest of his kind, was longer than the stranger, he held his head low, ready to run, ready to fight. His muscles burned at the ready, forged in the daily battle to hunt and survive. The stranger looked, well, Nengwe was certain as he studied him further, out of condition. Fat even. All mane and no muscle. Slow no doubt. If Nengwe was to spring, he'd be on him before he had turned to run. He might well have more than the edge in weight, but Nengwe was sure he would not be able to make it count, and he wasn't going to let the stranger sit on him. Nengwe's mind was made up. He burst forward, rushing the stranger.

Nengwe had been wrong: the stranger managed, just, to turn away, momentary but very real fear in his previously calm eyes. Nengwalamwe stopped, forepaws spread tensely, teeth and claws bared, growling, a couple of lengths ahead of the stranger who as he turned, tried to say, "I only wanted to say hell…." before Nengwe roared again. The stranger gathered himself and leapt away down the far slope of the ridge. Nengwe watched him go, roaring again when he was ten lengths off, by twenty five he had disappeared into a gully.

Nengwe noticed the woods lay silent now. No more did the shadows dance at the lion's paws. The breeze sliced chilledly through the hard wood. When he was sure the stranger had gone, he turned back toward the cave, back toward Falana.


	3. The ManBeast

**_3. The Man-Beast_**

Nengwe stopped just inside the trees. The ground before the cave seemed much more open than he remembered. It was as if the forest had pulled away. The lion was going to have to make a dash across the expanse of grass. He heard movement, a pawfall perhaps. Maybe the stranger was even now watching him, waiting for him to open himself up to attack. Then across the sward slithered the faint, muffled sounds of Falana yawning. Even with what little he heard, Nengwe recognised that she was still half in and half out of sleep, barely awake and in that dream world all her own. Now was the time to run.

He pushed forward, leapt over the dense fresh undergrowth in the light of the edge of the trees and out on to the grass. He crossed most the twenty or so lengths to the cave without looking away from the entrance, his tail streaming behind him, holding his gaze direct ahead. The air felt fresh, chilled even.

Then he looked: a shot glance to his side. Some strange sort of animal was walking upright along a path leading up from the east. The animal appeared to be carrying something in his forelegs, no, arms. He was carrying something in his arms, but this was no man, at least, not all of him.

Seeing the lion, the man-beast dropped his load, cut logs scattering across the ground. He snapped his head up in surprise. Cried something unintelligible and stood still. Nengwe hit the cave. The entrance had gone. In its place wood had grown, not trees but cut wood, scented acrid and smoked. He tried to remember what Falana had taught him as they had opened his cave together. He drew the images to mind, and flung them out at the wood. There was no time for any of that. The lion roared and hit out at the wood, raking his claws across it. It held. He rushed it again, head down. The wood gave for a moment then sprang back. Nengwe crumpled in to it, his head stinging.

"It opens. See?" The man-beast stood over him, reaching for the wood. He put a hand on it mid-height to the right, twisting it. The cave opened with a gentle creak. "I've been away. I really must do something about that. Well now, you can go in you know."

Nengwe looked up weakly. He shrank back to the ground. The man-beast reached over and laid his hand on Nengwe's head above his ear. The lion's fear turned instantly to warmth as he felt the fingers scratch him gently.

The man-beast entered the cave. He stood in the arched opening for a moment then waved his hand as if to usher the great lion in. Nengwe lay for a moment wondering what sort of place this could really be, and then scrambled to his paws, shot past the man-beast and, keeping to the edge of the cave, dived under whatever obstacles and shrank into shadows as quickly as he could to get to Falana side in the darkest depths of the cave.

Falana lay awake, quite calm and silent.

"Falana! Run, let's get out of here while we still can!"

"Nengwe, what are you talking about? This kind, err, animal here was just telling me about…"

"Come on! Let's go! NOW!"

"Nengwe? Is that your name?"

Nengwe turned to the voice. It was calm and friendly. It came from the man-beast. Now Nengwe knew all this, the cave, the woods, the strange lion, the iron tree, all of it, was a dream; no, a nightmare. Soon he would awake and hunt for Falana. Yes, that was it: the strain of preparing to hunt for his mate. That was what all this was about. He closed his eyes and lay still.

"Is he all right? He does seem rather, well, frightened. I didn't think lions got frightened."

"Oh yes, he'll be all right… sometime. He gets like this sometimes. Too much stuff just sort of creeps up on him and he goes off on one for a while. He's not good in forests either."

"Ahh, that's going to be a problem, you see we're right in the middle of one."

"Nengwe! Nengwalamwe, get your head out of your paws right now and come and say hello to… err… what is your name?"

"Name! It has a name?" Nengwe blurted, turning his head on to its side and looking out in to the light of the cave.

"Tumnus. My name is Tumnus." The man-beast slid some spindly wooden thing round and sat on it. Falana and Nengwe looked on in amazement. "And before you ask, I'm a faun. Yes I know, you don't see as many of us around these days. To be honest I haven't been here for a long time. I've only had time to tidy up a little, and I don't have any chairs for… well, for you two. And we don't get many lions up here, talking or otherwise." Falana and Nengwe stared incredulously. "You do know about chairs, don't you?" Falana shook her head slowly. "Ah, no. I see." The man-beast scrabbled for something to break the tension. "So, are you from Spare-oom too?" Falana shook her head again. "No? It's, well, you see, it's the lamppost." Blankness. "Don't know about lamps either? No, silly me, of course not." The faun cast about the cave for inspiration. "Daughters of Eve and sons of Adam, now you must know about them surely?"

Nengwe didn't know what was most peculiar about this dream, that it seemed so real, even down to the musty dampness of the cave, or the totally bizarre talking man-beast with all the strange "things" he had brought to Nengwe's cave. But then it wasn't his cave. It was a bit like their cave, the one he and Falana had opened together and made their home, but this one was lower, smaller, damper, and clearly not his. So, it was the man-beast's, the talking man-beast Tumnus's. How had he managed that, from where, deep down in his mind had he got the idea for a half-man, half… thing? And why was his dream Falana being so… normal about it?

"Look, tell you what. Why don't I go and make up the fire? It'll be dark soon. It's getting chilly out there. The leaves'll be falling soon I shouldn't wonder. I'll leave you two to… well, yes. I'll just leave you two."

First Tumnus busied himself by moving some of the wooden things about the cave, opening up the centre, every now and then pausing to look at the lions. Then, as Tumnus turned away to fuss over a pile of twigs and logs by the far wall of the cave Falana drilled her eyes into Nengwe. "Now see here Nengwe! This is Tumnus's cave, not ours. He's kindly letting us stay here if we behave. Do you hear?"

Nengwalamwe didn't know who to stare hardest at, the crazed, clearly suicidal man-beast or his own mate. "This is madness, all of it Falana, and you're in on it aren't you?"

"No Nengwe, this is real. We're in, ahh, what did he call it? Err, Narnia, that's it. We're not home anymore. Things are different here, very different."

"Different," he growled. "Different! Look at it Falana. It's not safe here. We shouldn't be here."

"Nengwe, yes we should be here. I don't know why, but I'm sure we should. The sooner you get used to that and start working on getting us home the sooner we'll get there. This Tumnus is willing to tell us all about this place, so don't ever think of eating him."

"Is everything all right?"

Falana shot the faun a smile of sorts. In his fashion Nengwe followed suit a second or two later. "Oh yes, thank you." Then the faun did something quite remarkable, something the lions had never seen and had never imagined: from a tiny stick of wood in his fingers he brought forth a shimmer-shining golden flame and carefully placed it into the wood pile he had made in a niche in the cave wall. For a short while nothing appeared to happen, other than the wood wising up smoke. Then the flame spread, crackling and dancing through the wood, sending tentacles of light reaching out into the deepest corners of the cave. Falana and Nengwe sat transfixed at its terrifying beauty and entranced by its gathering, embracing warmth. The faun sat back into another of the wood things, this one padded with some sort of skin or… something.

For a time he seemed content to watch the flames, reaching out with the flats of his hands to the warmth. Falana watched. For moment she was sure she saw a few zebra dashing through the flames. The wood hissed, then Nengwe, one of the most unimaginative lions, saw wild hunting dogs taunting him from above the wood just before it collapsed down, blackened and glowing red at the edges.

The chill bit into Falana's tail, and shivered her rump. At length, as the fire was well alight and beginning to burn down, Tumnus got up, picked up a log and placed it on the fire. Sparks crackled up, tiny specks of light shooting up. "You can come closer if you like." He beckoned, returning to his seat. "Just make sure you don't sit too close, sparks can fly out and catch fire to your fur, and we wouldn't like that now, would we?"

Falana crept forwards as is stalking. Nengwe nudged her shoulder with his head. "Where do you think you're going?" he rumbled.

"Where it's warm. I'm not sitting here all night getting my backside frozen off. You can if you like." She got up, and stood watching the fire for a while. It fascinated and consumed her. It was unlike anything she had ever known, yet it was so familiar and welcoming. It called to her.

She slipped forward. Nengwe growled. She ignored him. She put a paw tentatively ahead, wavering in mid-air. Warm air mingled with wood smoke called again. This time it was impala, jumping through the flames. Her sides heaved as her heart raced. She put her paw down and held herself over it.

"Falana come back here!"

She snapped her head back to him, "Oh shut up Nengwe! What can be so bad about it?" Falana moved away, circling slowly in what little shadow remained. She came to a halt a length away from the fire and stood and watched. The heat was intense close to, so she slipped back, and tiring from such a strange and strangely short day she flopped down to the ground, sticking her paws out away from the fire into the shadows.

Nengwe knew he had to save her from herself again. The biggest threat came from the man-beast. If he could bring forth fire whenever he wanted then who knows what else he could do. He would go and lay himself full length between him and Falana. No chance of anything happening then, and if the man-beast wanted to do that thing with his ears then well, it was the sort of indignity he was just going to have to put up with.

He too moved forward, taking a direct path of just a few strides, stopping half a pace nearer the fire. He leant back on his forepaws and feeling the heat if the fire on his forehead, he lowered his hindquarters, sitting between his folded hindlegs. His fore followed less gently soon after. He pressed himself to Falana on one side and stretched out his forelegs in front, facing the fire. He closed his eyes and for the first time since he arrived in this… this Narnia, he felt at ease.


	4. Passes All Understanding

**_4. Passes All Understanding_**

Sensing movement, Falana lifted from sleep and opened an eye. It was dark, the fire had burned low. Before it, the faun stooped and placed a log, then another. Falana yawned.

Tumnus stretched, rubbing his lower back with his hand. "Ah you're awake. I was just about to put on some mushroom soup to warm. Would you like some?"

"What it is?"

"Mushroom soup? Just the thing for a night like this. Warms you up. You know."

"Food? You have food in here?"

"Why of course."

"What prey is it?"

Tumnus looked down into the shadows, "It isn't prey. It's gathered from the woods. Boiled up and… wait a minute. I'll show you." He walked off to a deeper chamber of the cave, clattered around for a few moments and returned holding with a round pot by its hooped handle, a wooden spoon in his other hand. He offered the pot to Falana to sniff. She recoiled, fully awakened.

"Is that it? Where's the rest of it? Couldn't you catch anything bigger?"

"Oh dear" the faun muttered as he hooked the pot over the fire, now enlivened with the fresh wood. He returned to his seat, taking care not to step on Nengwe's forepaws with his hooves. He sat down. "So what do you eat?"

"Gemsbok, wildebeest, impala, gazelle mainly, any antelope really. Buffalo and zebra if they are around."

"Wildebeest, antelope… are we talking animals here? Live prey?"

"Of course. You know, antelope: four legged cloven hooved furred beasts."

"Ah yes, of course." Tumnus forced a smile as he slid his legs further into the shadows. "Like deer. There are plenty of deer in this waste."

"Waste?"

"The Lantern Waste, it's what we Narnians call this forest."

"You live here? You are a Narnian?"

The soup glooped. Tumnus got up, picked up the spoon and stirred the pot. "I am, while you clearly are not. Where are you from?"

"We don't have a name for it. It's just where we live, in a cave in a great rock. We need to get back."

"Nengwe and you?"

"And our cub." Falana rolled slightly back and forth for a moment. "I want it to be born at home."

"When? If it's born here it'll be a Narnian."

"So?"

"He… she couldn't go back with you. It would be a Narnian for ever."

Falana shot the faun a piercing look. "Then we have to find a way home."

"There's only one way. There's only one who can get you back, but he may not want to just yet."

"Who?"

"Aslan. Aslan the Great Lion."

"Lion? This Aslan is a lion like me?"

"Not exactly like you, no, but he is a lion." Tumnus got out of his seat and took a short candlestick from the mantelpiece. He lit it from the fire, snatching a glance at the soup, and placed it back. The light from it grew slowly. At first Falana could make nothing out in the gloom, but as she looked away from the fire something shiny red-brown and rectangular appeared above the fireplace. "See?" Falana did not see, all she could make out was some ridges in the strange sheet a length above her. "I know it's dark, but look harder." Still it was hard to make out from the floor. She needed to be closer. She stood, then lifted her forequarters off the floor and in a smooth sinuous motion, landed her forepaws on the edge of mantelpiece, her soft cream underfur stretched tight over her ribs and belly. "Wow! That's quite a lot of you that you have there."

"I am with cub."

"Yes, that's not what I meat… errr meant. Here, look, that's Aslan."

Falana looked, and at last the shapes began to make some sense. There was, yes, it was a lion. A big lion, standing between four young humans, two males and two females, and over on the right, was that… yes, it was, it was Tumnus standing next to… Falana's understanding failed just as the heat of the fire began to bite into her underfur. She dropped back to the floor.

"So how do we find this Aslan?"

"Oh you don't. He finds you. He's a wild lion you know. He doesn't come running whenever you call him."

"Someone must know where he is?"

"Around here, if anyone's seen him, it's the centaurs. But he's not been seen in the wastes since… well, the winter."

"Then we'll go and see them."

"I really wouldn't do that. I really wouldn't. Some of them have been known to hunt wild lions you know. I mean ones that don't talk obviously. Well, there was that one time…"

"Lions that don't talk? Tumnus, are you serious? All lions talk."

"Not in Narnia they don't."

"I'm not having my cub born here."

"I'll take you to them in the morning. They'll listen to me, but I can't be sure they will help. Now let's eat and get some rest."

Soon the faun spooned some of the steaming soup out into two wooden bowls. Tumnus took one and laid the larger, shallower one down in front of Falana. "Would you like a spoon for that?"

"What is a spoon?"

She watched Tumnus eat the soup, carefully at first, blowing on each spoonful. Then she stared at hers, sneaking a taste when he wasn't looking. It was creamy and warm. Actually, it wasn't as bad as it smelt. She ate it messily, the bowl rattling over the ground as she lapped at it. She was glad Nengwe wasn't awake: he would have made such a fuss about it.

~oOOo~

Falana slowed, looked about and then down. "Nengwe, stop."

"What's wrong?" called Nengwe without slowing.

"Just stop. Please."

Nengwalamwe paused, sighed under his breath and turned his head back. "What is it?"

She drew her head up and looked him straight in the eye. "How do you feel?"

"Feel? Huh?"

"Just tell me, how do you feel?"

"I feel fine."

"Not worried, not frightened?"

"No, Falana. What's there to be frightened of?" His eyes trembled. "There's nothing wrong with… is there?"

"No Nengwe, stop fussing. Our cub is just fine too. A little active maybe but they are fine. Now you've got me doing it too."

"So what's wrong?"

"That's just it. What is wrong? Look at this place. Go on, take a look."

Falana's eyes told Nengwe all he need to know. He looked about. Trees, forest, a… what was it, ah yes, a faun, and a path, almost a road. Green, light, shifting shade, a gentle chill too mild to be called brisk. The branches above rustling so softly as to be inaudible to the faun, but just caught by the lions. Nothing to be worried about. All was well. "It's a lovely day Falana, nothing to be worried about, unless anyone tries to hurt you and our cubs."

"I know you Nengwe, you hate forests. You should be bouncing off the trees by now. Look at you, standing in the middle of a track without any cover, by some strange beast who we should by rights have eaten by now. You're hungry, I certainly am. Don't you find all this odd?"

"What are you saying Falana?"

"I was wrong, we shouldn't be here. We should be home where we know what's out there. Where we know where not to go. Here, everywhere's unsafe yet I don't feel frightened at all. What's happening to us?"

Nengwe walked over to Falana and pressed his head to her neck.

"You're still the same old Falana; you always will be to me." He rested by her for a few seconds, warm and supportive.

"Err, you two, is anything wrong?"

"Not you as well Tumnus!" Falana was agitated, padding from forepaw to forepaw. "Look, we're wild. Real wild. Live by our wits. Hunt almost anything that's out there, you if I wanted. Love open country with cover where we can see but not be seen, hate closed spaces where we don't know what's around the corner. But that's not this place. I'm even getting to like it here."

Nengwe turned to the faun, looking him through narrowed eyes, "Yes, Tumnus, have you seen a wild lion?"

"Well, yes." The faun flung his arms about. "There was that one time. Didn't like that at all. It looked slyly at us as if saying, 'I can take you any time I like.' Then it roared at us. We just turned and ran. I mean really ran. You don't often see lions in Narnia."

"And we're like that to you?"

"No, of course not."

"Why not?"

"You talk. I knew that as soon as I saw Falana at home. She was asleep, but she…"

"She what Tumnus?" Nengwe stretched his foreleg.

"She talks in her sleep. She might have mentioned your name…" Tumnus raised both his hands, palms out to Nengwe, "…but I didn't know it was your name then."

"So us talking lions are alright. Is that it?"

"Yes, not that I've met many talking lions. Had a nice chat with a talking lioness once about dancing. She didn't apparently."

The lion blinked and sighed, "Can't think why."

"Nengwe!"

"Her tail got in the way apparently. Pity really."

"So Nengwe, where's our wildness? It's as if when you take us out of the wild, and the wild up and leaves us."

The lion pondered for a few moments. "We need to get home. Tumnus, are we nearly there?"

"Can't tell with centaurs. Look around, they could be anywhere here abouts."

Nengwe cast around, sniffing the air. Falana looked down. There were clear hoof marks, a fresh trail leading ahead. "Are centaurs anything like zebra?"

"Zebra?"

"Like... now what were they? Ah yes, horses?"

"Yes Falana… you could say they were like horses, a bit like you can say I'm like a goat."

"In that case some passed here just a little while ago."


	5. Centaurs

**_5. Centaurs_**

An hour or more later, around mid-morning, the three crested a ridge. The tracks lead down through open runnable woodland to a narrow stream cutting into the valley floor. Beyond the ground sloped more gently. The day was warming, the wind had died down. The forest seemed at peace. The tracks appeared as fresh as the day.

Nengwe stopped and sniffed at the tracks. "Are we sure these are centaurs?"

Tumnus looked. "Should be Nengwe. Look here, the fore are deeper than the hind. With horses it's the other way round."

There were patches of ivy, and what little bare ground there was, was covered with a smattering of freshly dropped leaves. In one or two places the leaves had been pressed into the peaty top soil, as yet they were still dry, except where the trampling hoof had been muddied.

"Quiet you two."

They listened. Snatches of distant voices floated on the still air. Tumnus, crouching, slipped up to Falana and dropped on to his knees beside her. "That's them," he whispered in to her ear. "Can't see them though. I don't know where they could be."

"There, beyond those bushes."

"The holly clump? Yes, that could be it." He stood up. "I'll go. You two stay here until I call you."

Tumnus walked forward, slowly at first, then after glancing back to Falana, faster to a normal walk. Nengwe padded to Falana's side.

"I don't like this Nengwe. You go up there, in the trees above the bushes and keep out of sight where you can see him and me. I'll follow Tumnus."

"…lions you say? Here in the waste?" The other centaurs laughed awkwardly. "So they want to find Aslan do they? I reckon we ought to do something about that. Get them there sooner eh? Isn't that right?" The others cheered.

"No, you mustn't. They need to get home, they are my guests."

"Spoiling our sport are you, Half-breed? What, you're putting them up in your hovel are you? Good, now we know where to go."

Falana had heard enough. She gathered herself and strode round the holly bush. Her eyes widened as she saw the five. The closest saw her first and nudged his neighbour. Soon every eye bore down on her. They were not much longer than zebra, but much taller, and she was close, no more than three lengths from any of them. Any zebra she had approached had always run at the sight of her, these centaurs had the assurance and arrogance of humans. They weren't running anywhere. She snarled at them, "Don't ever call my friend a half-breed!" She hoped "half-breed" had been an insult.

"Or what? You going to kill us eh? You and whose army?"

Nengwe sprang from the top of an uphill mossed bank, crashing into and knocking the loud-mouthed beast down into the bushes. Falana sprang at one to her nearside. The remaining four bolted. The leader scrambled to his feet, cursed and cantered after them, shouting, "We know where you live."

"They'll be back you know."

"Yes, good thing we won't be here when they do." Falana turned to Nengwe. "What do you think?"

"Slow, not as agile as zebra. It's all that man stuff on top: unbalances them. We should catch them easily enough. Easy to hear too…" The sound of hooves still fell through the woods. "And they don't make much effort to blend in."

"Not bad Nengwe."

"So Fal, how do we take them? Man or horse?"

"Horse every time. They've got eyes in front, not to the sides like other horses. They won't see us if we go in from the rear or the side. We'll do zebra tactics: get up on to their rumps and pull them back, or stove in their ribs; with that sort of pain they'll have to go down."

"Oh dear, oh dear. What have I got you two into?"

"Don't worry Tumnus. They're trotting right into our territory. It's what we do. First, let's get you home. Then we'll do the rest."

"But you don't know where they are."

"Yes, but we know where they're going. Don't worry Tumnus; no horse of any colour has ever got the better of me."

As Nengwe passed the bemused Tumnus he whispered, "…nor has any lion."

~oOOo~

It was mid-afternoon and just coming on to rain when the lions finally regained contact with the centaur hunting party. Nengwe was just beginning to get used to the vegetation of the forest. It was harder and far greener than he was used to. He still had few names for the plants; holly he now knew, and knew to avoid getting close to. He could now read the terrain fairly well, but it still surprised him, with unseen dips and gullies, and he never could be sure what was likely to lie over the next crest.

Nengwe was noticing more of the sounds of the forest, the birds above and rustling on the ground, calls and strange rat-at-tating from high in the trees. For the lions, the forest was beginning to come alive.

Following the centaurs, the lions made their way back in a rough and wide circle back way they had come, always keeping out of sight. They came to a clearing. To one side some trees had been blown over, folding on to each other, their branches now dead and bare against the canopy of green. On the other side, where a path had once been, was a stand of plants twice as tall as they were. At their heads, purple-pink bell-like flowers slanted down into which bees scurried about. Near the ground, spear shaped, almost furry leaves, green and richly veined flowed off the stalks.

A trickling runnel ran across their path, muddy and glistening in the sun, barely a pad deep. They picked their way downhill along it, finding the driest patches, but always wet as the stream came with them.

Lions are basically opportunist hunters. Picking out one animal out of a hundred is easy enough. They just have to wait and one will eventually split themselves away, but they are not assassins: taking one specific animal out of even a small group takes time, even more so when the target is moving. Time, however was not on the lion's side in this kill or be killed game where the hunter was the hunted.

They decided to get in front of their prey and lie in wait close to the cave. It was a gamble: they could not at all be certain the centaurs would go that way.

They padded down a valley among the dapple-green, ahead, no more than ten lengths away a brook turned and, unseen, cascaded down in a light burble. The brook cut through the soft leaf-mould to the gravel bed below. On the inside of the bend, pebbles shone through clearly, giving the brook a brown-red bed. Piercing sunlight filled the water with purple-tinted shafts. The fall, a weir some half a length wide and no more than a couple of paws deep formed by a fallen tree, filled the valley with sound. It covered their approach more completely than anything would have done at home. It was better cover than any bush or grass.

They crossed the brook and paused to scout the shallow valley. It was open enough and the brook covered them, sound and smell.

"You stay here Nengwe. I'll go up ahead."

Crouching in the shadow of an oaken rootstock, Nengwe waited… and waited. It seemed like their reading, imperfect as it was, of the forest was off, and the centaurs would not pass by along the valley.

Falana was thinking, perhaps the best thing to do would be to change tactics. The leader, being the leader, stayed at front or thereabouts and rarely came to the rear of the group. What they wanted to do was split him away from the group and then take him down. She was mulling over the idea of sending Nengwe to make some noise or movement to attract his attention at the right moment. Their mark might, if they were lucky, hold back to watch and listen. Then they could strike. It was a long shot, but it might just be worthwhile.

Then their time ran out as the centaur group clattered into the valley, talking amongst themselves. They stopped and gathered together. For a moment Nengwe was sure they had seen him or Falana, but a burst of easy laughter assured him they remained undetected. The group split and walked on, on towards Falana. The lead, their target remained at the head. Now was not the time.


	6. The Great Lion

**_6. The Great Lion_**

There was a sudden shout, and the group surged into a confused canter. To Nengwe's near side he was sure he saw Falana rise from cover. If there was one lesson he'd learnt about hunting was you always support your party. If someone broke, they always broke for a reason, even if that reason was not obvious to you. If you saw someone rise, you rose too, even if, like Nengwe, you saw it late. Leaping the stream as a simple part of his stride he tore up the far bank towards the centaurs. He could also see a large golden shape bearing down on them from high up the valley side: it was heading for the leader. The undergrowth was light; he could see the earth beneath the few fallen leaves. He gained traction easily without using his claws, his pads giving him all the grip he needed.

He and Falana were still five lengths off when the shape struck. Nengwe grimaced as the lion leapt at the leader. Even he knew that to strike moving prey you aimed for the forequarters to hit the hind. The great golden lion filled the gap between the rump of the leader and the following centaur. Kicked hard in mid-flight by the leader, the next crashed into him, crushing him, barely managing to keep on his hooves. The others jumped over and around him, sending him rolling heavily down the valley. The centaurs cantered on, up to the head of the valley and out of sight.

Nengwe slowed to a halt. Falana came up to him, gasping for breath.

"What was that all about?"

"Look, I'm sorry Falana."

"Not you," she snapped, "him!"

"What? That Aslan hasn't turned up has he?"

"Shuush Nengwe."

Aslan lay still, kicked and stamped on, on his side. The centaurs were well away down slope by the time he stirred. He lifted his head a little and through pained eyes looked toward Falana and Nengwe.

"Who taught you that one eh? Not your mother I'll bet!"

He shook his head weakly. His mane at the shoulder, high up at the blade, was dulling red. Falana padded over to him and sniffed at the wound.

"Stay still," she commanded as she bent down and nuzzled into the lion's mane. Dropping down on to the ground, she began to clean away the blood. He drew back sharply, gasping, closing his eyes and stifling an open jawed growl, as she rasped her tongue into the deep gash. "What… did you… do that… for?" She asked between rasps. "Are you Aslan?"

"Yes."

"You're no use to any of us dead, least of all yourself."

"I'm not important. You are."

"Aslan, I'm no one."

"You're a mother."

"Not quite yet." She turned her head back. "Nengwe? Get over here and keep him quiet. At least stop him turning his head all the time."

Shortly Nengwe settled full length beside Aslan, and slipped down to the ground, pressing his side to the great lion's. "Best do what she asks… especially when she's got her jaws over your scruff. I've seen buffalo die that way."

Aslan screwed his eye up tight and held his breath.

Nengwe tried to distract him, "She's got a point though. What did you hope to do by thundering in like that?"

"No one."

"Eh?"

"No one taught me that. Not my mother."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never learned to hunt."

"Never learned to hunt? That and you let me take you down. What kind of a lion are you?"

Drawing in another sharp breath, Aslan admitted, "Not the sort I thought I was."

Falana drew back, her work done. The bleeding was mostly staunched, the flap of skin and the mane hair over it clean and moist. "There, you'll live."

"Falana, you do me a great honour."

"Eh? I did you nothing." She tried to get up, but stopped half-way up, sharply exhaling with suddenly tight closed eyes. She turned her head half-away from the two males.

"Falana! What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"Don't worry Nengwe." She paused, catching her breath. "I… we are alright, and yes, it's definitely we now."

"You mean, that was my daughter?"

"Or your son."

"Or," added Aslan quietly, "both."

Nengwe rose, turned his head over Aslan's, and with a flash of his eyes said, "Falana, could it be? Our cubs?"

She passed it off with a flick of her head. "Who knows? Maybe. We'll see."

"It will be Falana."

"How can you know Aslan?"

"I know." The great lion added softly, "What I do not know is what it's like to be a father."

Nengwe dropped his chin gently on to Aslan's mane. "Nor do I…. Yet. I hope I'll be a good one."

"Your cubs will have everything they need with you."

"Come on Aslan, how can you possibly know? For all I know I am carrying just one cub and we could lose it within weeks."

"This will be." Aslan drew forwards, slowly sliding his back under Nengwe. "I create worlds, and bring life into them, yet I cannot know what it feels like to create life and bear it within you as you are now Falana."

"Creating it's one thing, carrying it is quite another. It's nothing great. Three months of wallowing about looking like a warthog. Feeling sick half the time yet still having to hunt all hours. Oh yeah, really great and nurturing that is I can tell you."

Aslan paused. "I had a mother. Not like yours, but I had one. She was so young: a child really. Lost, so, so vulnerable, afraid and alone. She hardly knew what was happening yet she accepted it without question. I could not stay with her, I had to leave her. Yet despite it all, she never stopped loving me."

"I'm sorry."

"What about your father?"

"My father?" Aslan shook his head. "My father is… not like yours."

"That's not a bad thing Aslan. You'd not have liked my father."

Aslan smiled. Nodding and shaking his head in mild amusement. "That may be so Nengwalamwe. That may be so. My father is… well, he is not a lion."

Nengwe pressed the point, pushing his head forwards to Aslan's. "Not a lion? How can that be? You say you can create whole worlds, but yet you say you are just a lion. A lion, that is, that cannot hunt. No lion that I ever heard of can make worlds, so what are you?"

"My father is of spirit alone. He cannot walk these worlds. He made me from himself. I am his son, the embodiment of his being. Yet I am not him. I live in these worlds, real, solid worlds just as you do. He cannot. He can never live amongst us. That is why he made me."

Nengwe looked to Falana. She widened her eyes and lifted her shoulders. Her tail lay still.

"I don't understand Aslan. You look like a lion, you feel like a lion, you bleed like one. You smell like one; but a lion without a father, or a very odd one at that. Are you a lion or aren't you?"

"Yes... and no."

Falana swished her tail and eased up her ears. "Every lion should be able to hunt… and not get themselves killed for it. There are better things to die for than food."

"I have no need to hunt."

"Then unless you can send us home, let us get on and live our lives without your precious "help". You nearly got yourself killed, and us with you like as not."

Aslan inhaled sharply, almost a gasp, then he let it go gently and dropping his head replied, "I saved you. Take care to not take nobility too far. You must not hunt centaurs. They are a proud, honourable… and stubborn race and slow to forget. That was showing off taken too far. If you had caught them, and they have never been hunted, they would have hunted you two and cut you both down. I tell you this: I can't send you home. I do not know how long your stay here will be, but I know it must not have ended there. I didn't bring you here, my father did. Only he can send you back but you must first survive to be sent. I am his servant and bound by the deeper magic from before the dawn of time. I am here not to rule but to serve."

"Then take us to him."

"I cannot take you to my father."

Nengwe gazed on Aslan wryly as Falana shook her head. "Then if you want to be of any help to us you had better learn to hunt and fast."

Looking up at Falana with his eyes, Aslan said softly, "You, Falana, can teach me."

"Can you strike from cover?" Aslan said nothing. "Can you even pounce?"

"I can learn."

"Tomorrow. We'll start tomorrow. I'm going back to the cave." With that she turned and walked off., her tail swishing.

Nengwe whispered to Aslan, "Isn't she beautiful?"

"Beautiful, yes, and terrifying. You and she…?"

Nengwe nodded, "Uh-huh. And those centaurs started it."

"I stopped it."

"She'll start with cub stuff, you do know that?"

"Yes Nengwalamwe. You had better go catch her up. I have things to do: centaurs to talk to."


	7. A Humble Servant

**_7. A Humble Servant_**

Lucy sat alone on a long curved window seat high above the Paravellian hills and looked out on the last hour before sunset. Her chamber, in a tower guarded sixty seven steps, two and a half spirals, below by two centaurs, was quiet and quite alone. It was decorated gaily, in reds, gold and greens, and upon everything a lion's head, always looking, always watching, always protecting, always guiding.

It was in these times, before she joined her brothers and sister and the Narnians to dine, that she thought most on what she had left behind. The war, school and motor cars she felt more than able to leave. It was books that she missed most. Narnian tales were all told verbally, passed on from generation to generation by storytellers, and often acted out in great beauty and passion at Cair Paravel for all to enjoy. Lucy wondered if she would ever now be able to read Treasure Island or Black Beauty.

She closed her eyes for a moment, twiddling her toes in her golden lion slippers, and, thinking she heard a soft scratching at the door, jolted back to wakefulness. She heard nothing, so, thinking it was just her imagination, she leant back her head back on the glass, thinking of scruffy boys, ships, and peg-legs thumping on heaving decks. Then the scratching came again, more insistent. Silence and a soft thump-thump on the door at about waist height. Clearly, someone wanted to be let in.

"Yes, what is it?"

No response. The scratching resumed, more frantic now.

"Oh very well," she harrumphed theatrically, "I'm coming."

The scratching continued as she walked across the chamber in her golden lion slippers, yawning. Reaching the door, she opened it blearily. At first she saw no one, then a tail and rump. Moments later an entire lion stretched back up to full height before her. She dropped on to her knees and threw her arms over his shoulders.

"Aslan! Oh Aslan! I knew you'd come back!" The lion nodded gently. Lucy drew her head back and with a warm smile and a loving lift in her voice continued, "And how did get up the spiral staircase?" Then her face changed to mildly mocking disapproving chastisement. "How did you get past the guards?"

"Guards do not concern me." He smiled broadly, "though I'll confess, my child, that stairs can be a little difficult… and it appears lions can't use door knobs."

"Why are you here? There's not going to be another battle is there?" For a moment she felt sure she could hear a very distant air raid siren.

"No, there'll be no battles tonight." And it was gone.

"Good. Come in, I was just remembering. You know, about how it used to be."

"That is how we usually remember. I have yet to remember about how things will be. Though that too is important."

Lucy got up and stepped back to let the great lion into her room. Few ever came to her chamber. Sometimes Edmund, her brother, might to play a board game perhaps, or even to dress up, but never her two older siblings, Peter and Susan. She felt they liked to have better things to do than to visit her in her own little fairy-tale tower in the great castle.

Aslan looked around, noting the hangings and decorations of the room as he padded gently to the five-legged, leaf-shaped table of lantern waste timber that stood between the window seat and the fireplace. The lion stood, fixing his gaze on Lucy as she followed him to the table. With a soft rasp, almost breathed out, he told her, "Sit down." She obeyed.

"Something's wrong isn't it? I know it is. How can I help? Is anyone hurt?"

"My child, no one is hurt, and there's nothing wrong." He paused. "Well, there is but not in the way you mean. I need your help."

"Our help? Of course. I'll go and get the others."

"No. No, just you. There's something I need you to do for me."

"Why me? You're not hurt are you?"

"I'm quite well. I need you to do something for me that I cannot do for myself."

Lucy slumped down in to the chair. The first golden rays of sunset stole through the window, picking out the fauns and centaurs carved onto the fire surround.

"I would do anything for you Aslan. I'd die for you if you asked."

The lion dipped his head, smiling, "There's no need for anything like that."

"Then what is it? What brings you here to me this evening?"

"How do you look after your hair?"

"Hair?"

"Yes. Girls like to I understand."

"Well, I wash it and brush it, and I got someone to cut it every few weeks… like my mother did."

"Have you got that brush and scissors?"

Lucy wondered what Aslan wanted with such things. She wondered if he could even hold them. She went to her bedside table and brought them from the draw, offering them to Aslan.

"No, my child, I cannot. You must do it for me."

"I don't know… what you mean Aslan. I'm frightened."

"Do not be afraid. Be bold. Be caring. Do what I need done. Be Lucy."

"But Aslan, what is it you'd have me do?"

"Cut off my mane."

"What?" She sat bolt upright in her chair. "You want me to… to… do what those… things did to you on the stone table. You want me to do that?"

"It's only hair. It will grow back. I'm not going to die."

"But Aslan, it's what makes you a lion!"

"Now you know what I need from you, and why you must not tell anyone else about it. This is something I can only ask of you because you trust me. Now, take hold of those scissors. I'll lie here calm as you like. Please, do this for me."

Lucy held the scissors open at the edge of nape of Aslan's neck. She couldn't bring herself to cut into his magnificent mane. She wept, and her tears ran down his shoulder.

"Can't you just magic it away?"

"No, it has to be this way. Now be strong for me. You were once before, you can be again."

Her hand shook, but she managed to summon the will to close her fingers. The scissors cut then bound up with a thick hair clump. She had never cut a lion's mane before, but then she wondered how many people ever had, or ever would. "I'm sorry. I'll try again."

"Take as long as you need."

She sat on the floor beside the lion. From there he looked even bigger than he usually did, but was somehow less magnificent and more lion-like. He was flesh and skin and hair; warm and alive, and heavy and powerful, and comforting. His ears twitched idly, he shook his head. Lucy pulled back both her arms. The cut she had made was now lost in his mane.

"Stay still Aslan or I'll cut you too."

"Yes, Lucy."

She took a few deep breaths and then reached back to his mane. Taking a thinner cut, the scissors started to cut. A few moments later she held a coil of golden hair in her hand, then more and more. Aslan kept his word.

She came to his off shoulder. The hair was thicker there and matted. Dark too once she had taken the first cut off. She pressed the scissors in harder better to cut the mass. It happened suddenly. The lion shuddered and rose, growling with wide jaws. He knocked Lucy over on to her back. He stood breathing deeply, his chest heaving.

"Aslan!"

"I am sorry my child. Please Lucy, forgive me." She felt her fingers were damp and without thinking, her eyes fixed on the lion's exposed teeth, licked them. They were bloodied, warm and congealing. Aslan stepped to her and rasped his tongue over her fingers. She felt the warm strength rough power of his tongue. It tickled a little as he cleaned between her fingers. "Good, you are unharmed."

"But you? I shall get the cordial."

"No Lucy," he said with almost a smile, "It is nothing: a hunting wound. I will heal by itself."

"Aslan, when did you start hunting?"

"I… I am learning. Now come on, I haven't got all night you know, let us finish this."

Later as Aslan got up to leave, Lucy looked down at the golden skeins strew about the floor. The lion stopped and looked back and smiling, said, "Now you can get yourself some new slippers: made from real Aslan."

~oOOo~

Falana rolled over on to her side. The fire glow flickered over her under fur. "He's coming hunting with us in the morning," she said through a yawn.

"He?"

"Yes, that Aslan."

Tumnus's hand froze on Nengwe's taut scalp. "Aslan? The Aslan? Aslan the Great Lion?"

"Aslan the lion: him." Falana pulled a foreleg back and set to licking it.

"Falana, Aslan isn't just a lion you know. He's much more than that. He made Narnia."

Nengwe pushed his head up trying to find Tumnus's fingers. "He's a lion too. Anyway I still can't get how anyone can make whole world, let alone a lion."

Tumnus smiled down at Nengwe, resuming his scratching. "Nengwe, you really don't know the half of it."

Then came a thumping at the door, it flew open with a bang. The fire dulled as the flames leant heavily.

"Nengwalamwe, son of Nengwala!"

All three turned to face the door. Terror flew into Tumnus's eyes when he saw how short the great lion's mane was. Then he noticed he looked younger as if by shedding his mane he had shed his years. It was almost as if his bulk could be attributed to cub-fat, though no one dared say it.

"Is this how a real wild lion behaves?"

Nengwalamwe stood up, turning his head, holding it up boldly. "No, it is not."

Aslan nodded and padded into the cave, circling toward the fire. The door blew shut behind him noisily. He came to a stand by the other fireside chair.

"If you will, Nengwalamwe, move away from him." Even Tumnus noted his gentle nod as the great lion fell silent. Nengwe peered at the great lion for a moment, and then stepped over Falana carefully. Aslan slipped into the space. "Falana, daughter of Nyala; they have foxes and eagles where you come from."

"Yes Aslan, fish eagles. They soar down and sometimes perch in trees near the river."

"Ah… I am no wild lion; not like you will be when you get back. In truth I am and always will be a tame lion. But do not take me for granted. I don't dance to your tunes; I hear and make my own music and that of my father." He paused, only the crackle of the fire broke the silence. "Might I stay this night here with you?"

"Here?" Tumnus looked around anxiously. He looked to Falana who nodded back. "Yes, of course."

"What I am not…" The great lion looked to each of the three in turn, "and have never been…" He laid down beside the faun, lolling onto his side, holding his head up, "is a pet lion."

Nengwe's fur had been coarse and gritty over work-toned muscle, dense and tight. Aslan's flowed over relaxed, comfortable flesh. Lion's ears though, are lion's ears no matter how long the mane through which they push.


	8. Teaching Many Things

**_8. Teaching Many Things_**

The fire laid warmly ashen grey; the air chilling and damp. Tumnus opened the door. Nengwe looked out. Something hung in the air. It had become almost solid to sight. Everything was dulled to whitened grey. Falana brushed him, pushing him forward. He stood stock still on the threshold. He was colder than he had ever been, so cold that he wanted to go back to the cave, back to sleep.

"What's happened? Where's it all gone?"

Aslan, standing beside him, stretched his forepaws. "It's mist Nengwalamwe. It won't hurt you. It'll soon lift. Come, follow me both of you." He stepped out and with each stride was consumed by the mist. Falana brushed passed Nengwe, "You heard him. Let's go, we have work to do." With a shiver she too was lost. Nengwe stared after them both. He looked back to Tumnus, who shooed him out, smiling. "Off you go. With you three gone I can tidy up around here at last."

Nengwe walked through the mist cautiously, not knowing what was more than a stride or two ahead. For the first time he realised that air had substance. Mist, whatever it was, didn't. He couldn't catch it, though he could breathe it, and, even stranger, add to it. It quickly chilled him, seeping through his light coat. He soon felt wet and uncomfortable. Ahead, Aslan appeared not to notice, though it clearly troubled Falana, now visibly slower and less graceful than the past few weeks. From time to time she stopped and lifted a paw. After shaking it or licking it she lowered it and moved on.

Aslan led them to a lightly treed patch of forest where the ground sloped up gently to a ridge atop of which stood a black tree Nengwe had seen before.

"Will this suit your purpose Falana?"

She looked around. Already the mist was lighter. "Yes, this will do."

Nengwe walked up to her.

"If I may, now we're all here I can do it properly."

Falana nodded. Aslan dipped his head, half closing his eyes. "Nengwalamwe, son of…"

Nengwalamwe exploded the mist. "What's with the 'son of Nengwala' stuff? Can't you get it? I'm no son of his."

Falana shot him a look so piercing it cut him asunder.

"Nengwalamwe, I know what this means to you. If you let me finish, I was going to say: Nengwalamwe, son of Melakwe and Falana, daughter of Nyala, welcome to Narnia."

Nengwe stood calmly abashed.

Aslan continued. "I am sure there is much here that is new and frightening to you both, but there is nothing to fear, and there is much of beauty and wonder."

"Such as that. Just what is that?"

"That Falana? Ah, that. Yes, that is a lamppost. It's from your world."

"What is it for?"

"It gives light, but it is also a beacon: a sign, and a warning."

"A warning?"

"Yes. It came here by ill will and malignancy; evil if you will. It is a corruption, a defilement of this place, the pollution of your world spilling over into this. Yet even though it came here through a bad heart, it stands here forever giving light and hope."

Falana stared at Aslan for a moment, and then looked to Nengwe. He shrugged back in confusion.

"Whatever. Aslan, let's start at the beginning; see what you can't do."

"Very well Falana. You teach and I shall follow."

True to his word, Aslan was a willing, obedient and responsive student. He listened carefully, watched intently and took in all he was told. No matter what Falana asked him to do he tried to do it. However, no matter how willing the student, it has to be matched with natural ability, talent if you will. That was what Aslan lacked.

When Falana showed him how to sink to his belly to slink forward, he appeared unable at first to understand what he was meant to do. Falana patiently showed him again; to little effect. It wasn't until he had Nengwe at his side and could match his movements muscle for muscle that he finally laid himself to ground. It was as if he had to think through every movement rather than it being automatic and natural. Nevertheless, he learned just enough, soon enough.

~oOOo~

"Now, let's try that again, but we'll have a moving target." Falana looked over the uneasy silence. "Nengwe, that means you."

"Eh? Why me?"

"Because you do it so well, you're the perfect target. Come on, get out there. Down there."

Nengwe looked at her, memories welling up. He walked off, slipping down behind an earth bank. There he lay. Around him the final wisps of mist lifted, the slope opened and warmed, the sun beating down. He was young again. Nengwalamwe looked up as the momentary sounds of his brother's approach reached the soft fur-fringed tips of his ears. He didn't have to look; the sounds alone told him that the young lion was coming. He knew he would soon feel his brother's breath on his cheek and the rasp of his tongue through his fur.

"Nengwe? Where've you gone?"

"Tashi, you're here too?"

"Falana, stay here. I'll go to him, I am meant to catch him after all."

She stood impatiently as Aslan ran down to the bank. From the top, he saw Nengwalamwe shivering in a ditch below.

Aslan went to him pressing his head against his neck. "Talashi, he was your brother, Nengwalamwe."

"I couldn't save him. I was meant to save him."

"Were you?"

"Yes," Nengwe looked over to Falana, "and my mother."

"Your mother?" Aslan followed Nengwalamwe's gaze shaking his head gently. "Was she anything like Falana?"

"No, well, a bit, sort of, yes."

"And you? Are you like your mother?"

"Yes… I try to be, but I failed her."

"How Nengwalamwe?"

"My father, he was a lion. He was always right because he was the lion. She was always wrong because he was male and she wasn't. He hurt her when she did anything he thought was wrong; or when she didn't do something quickly enough or willingly enough or even simply if she did it in the wrong tone of voice. He hurt her badly simply because a neighbouring lion said he was lucky to have her. He fought and killed anyone who stood in his path. It didn't matter why. When I was young she tried to protect me from him, long after I should have left, but as I grew up I grew to actually admire him. I wanted to be him, because he was strong. Then I did something very bad. I put myself in his way and I had to abandon her, and then Talashi… I… I killed him."

"Did you?"

"Yes… well no. I got him killed. He died because of me."

"You are so sure. You did what you had to do. You made your choices and followed them wherever they led."

"They led to a new life and to Falana, Aslan. I ran away, I should have stayed."

"And get yourself torn apart by your own father just so that you could feel smug about having done the 'right thing'? And what of Falana and all the others you would not have met? What of them? Let go of all this guilt Nengwalamwe. It eats away at you: devours you. You did what you had to do. We all make choices. Many seem to think they know what the right thing to do is. Some choices seem good at the time, but turn out to be wrong. Sometimes you can be convinced that something is wrong but in the end it turns out to be right. There's so much more to life than that than getting it right all the time."

"I've done many bad things Aslan, made the wrong choices."

"And many right. What do you think is the best thing you've done in your life?"

Nengwe thought, he had made himself a life, but then he had to run away from his family to do it. Instead of eating Mtundu and sustaining himself for a day, he had befriended him and sustained both of them for life. He had killed the dogs, not such a noble thing indeed, and he should have done it far sooner. Then he knew it. "I put Falana in cub."

"Nengwalamwe, you could not have done that without doing all the other things; all this because you 'ran away'. Yet for all that, you did everything I asked."

"You don't know, you weren't there."

"I was there Nengwalamwe. I was beside you at the river side, not one of your best moments that. I was there in the rain, and by the waterfall, and even at the waterhole. I _was_ there."

Nengwe stared, eyes unbelieving.

"Come now, Falana grows impatient."

~oOOo~

The misty morning turned into a bright but still chilled day. The forest around them shuffled and swayed in the breeze that had torn away the mist.

"What's next Falana?"

"Take a break. It's a lovely day; it seems a shame to work through it all."

Aslan bounded off excitedly, "Nengwalamwe, Falana says it's time to take a break!"

Nengwe looked up to see Aslan charging toward him, "You can't catch me!" He turned sharply and ran off cross-slope.

Aslan turned on the run, curving to cut him off. "I can! I can, see!"

Nengwe laughed and with a punch of his claw-extended forepaws switched directions. Aslan faltered for a moment, and then gathered himself for a final all-out run at Nengwalamwe. Nengwe slowed, taunting the running Aslan by hopping from side to side on his forepaws. The golden lion ran in, knocking Nengwe over, growling and snarling with open but soft jaws. Nengwe rolled over, carrying Aslan with him, padding his belly with his hind legs.

Aslan backed off, tail curling, his forelegs wide and his head low. Nengwe righted himself with a flourish and ran off again. "You couldn't catch a dik dik!"

Falana looked on, shaking her head. She brought the break to a close, roaring, "Cubs! If you two have finished, we have work to do. If we want to eat we had better get to some real prey."

Then at last came the real work: finding prey in a strange land.


	9. A New Antelope

**_9. A New Antelope_**

"We should leave."

"Why?"

"There is a herd of deer heading up from the river."

"Are you sure Aslan? I can't see, hear or smell anything."

"There _is_ a herd of deer heading up from the river," Aslan repeated gently.

"Can we eat them?" Nengwe asked more out of hope than expectation.

"Yes Aslan, telling and practicing is one thing; actually letting you have a go is something else entirely. Anyway, I'm hungry. What about it?"

"Very well, you may hunt these deer. Just make it a quick and clean kill mind."

"I'll go up the valley to those crags. You stay with Nengwe. Do what he tells you. Do you understand?"

"Yes Falana."

There was a distant crack of a branch and a rustle of dry leaves from down slope. Nengwe and Falana instantly turned their ears, only then turning their heads underneath. Soon all three melted into the undergrowth.

When the deer appeared from the valley Nengwe noted they were quite big, more than an impala but smaller than a gemsbok but certainly some kind of antelope. Easy prey, Nengwe smiled, remembering: feeds only cubs.

With the deer thirty lengths off, Aslan whispered to Nengwe as they all crept into a depression closer to the deer. "Every animal around us Nengwe lives but here in Narnia. They are all, every one of them, told about in stories. In those stories they are imagined – made up – but here, here they are flesh and blood and bone and sinew: all real. I made this place so that they could be real."

"Every animal? Every one?"

"Yes Nengwalamwe."

"But what about you and me? There aren't any stories told about us!"

Aslan almost smiled. "No?"

At the rear of the herd, white flashed through the trees. It stopped, wary, sniffing the breeze. It had the most unusual horns Nengwe had ever seen: branching and wide but not dangerously pointed. If it smelt Nengwe and Aslan, it showed no sign and soon moved closer. The others moved away up slope.

Aslan stared full on at the beast from the hollow.

"Get down! It'll see you," Nengwe hissed.

Aslan did as Nengwe bade. "You can't catch the white stag."

"Stag eh? Is that what it is? Yes Aslan, you're right. I'm far too slow and too clumsy.

"Stay here and you'll see how it's done." Falana flicked her head minutely to Nengwe. He nodded, and then she padded off toward the upslope crag, there to watch and wait.

"Stay here?" Aslan asked, his eyes wide.

Nengwe's were locked on the approaching but still distant stag. It looked to be heading past them and into the crags. Then it paused to graze the forest floor. "When it turns back, you get up and roar, growl or whatever you want to do. Just make sure it sees you."

"Turns back? How do you know it will turn back?"

"Because I'm going to work my way round over there behind it. It'll see me for sure."

"What use is that? It'll run Nengwalamwe."

"Yes. Yes it will: right under Falana like as not. You're right: I can't catch it, but she can. Watch and learn from the master." Aslan watched as Nengwe slipped away downslope. "Not me! Falana!"

The stag kept looking up, looking around, looking for danger, but finding none it soon returned to grazing the rich grass. All the while Nengwalamwe circled around over its path until he was some thirty lengths away, nearly opposite Aslan. Falana lay still on the crag. The trap was set; it just waited to be sprung.

The afternoon was nearly over, yet it was cool enough for all the lions to feel comfortable. Nengwe and Falana had, so far at least, done very little, just waited, and so were fresh and hungry. Nothing more lay between them and a good meal.

Nengwe sprang from the undergrowth, roared and stepped forward. The stag flung up its head in panic and turned away, springing into a run. It was fast enough and looked to be able to jump, but nothing like the pronking of springbok or even impala.

As it neared Aslan, Nengwe was for a moment unsure whether he would rise, but almost too late he roared powerfully and burst from the hollow. A bit over the top thought Nengwe, but it would do the job. The stag, in total confusion and desperate panic turned again: turned along slope toward the crags. Nengwe ran after it, picking up speed quickly.

It had maybe hoped to find cover in the rocks, instead it found Falana. She leapt on to its back as it flashed past below, getting a paw of claws into its rump, and the other into its flank. It staggered backwards and crumpled on to its side. It made no sound and put up little fight, such was the surprise of the lioness' strike. Then, catching them, Nengwe fell in, adding his weight, making certain of what was already sure, closing his eyes as he sunk his claws into the stag's side. The stag looked wild but dulling eye'd into his….

When Nengwe opened them the beast was still. The sun beat down on them all, lions and prey alike. The prey shook as Falana struggled to bring a hind paw to it. Above them the sky was open and arid. The soft murmurs of the forest were gone. Behind them, yips of zebra floated up from the plain. Falana stilled, and looked up bemused at Nengwalamwe. They looked around. They were among Silent Rocks and a gazelle lay dead, still warm, beneath them. They were alone, Aslan had gone.

~oOOo~

Nengwalamwe went looking for Aslan several times over the next few days. There was, as there always was, no sign of any other lion.

"You've been looking again?"

"He's not here." Nengwe had wanted to find some sign, anything to show Aslan had been there too. "He said he had been here. Do you think we'll ever see him again?"

"Yes, I'm sure we will Nengwe." She rolled over on to her back, trying to get more comfortable. "But I don't think we'll know him when we do. Anyway, we don't find him remember? He finds us."

"I'll always remember him you know."

"Do you think I don't Nengwe? While we remember he'll always be alive in our memories: in us."

It was some nine days later that one evening Falana asked Nengwe to hunt alone for them both. She had never asked him before; they had always gone together, but she was tired and heavy with cub.

Nengwalamwe took his time and did his best, which was not as bad as Falana sometimes liked to make out. He came back to the rock in the first glow of morning with a gazelle leg. He took it to Falana who still lay dozing uneasily where he had left her. She looked at him weakly as he laid it beside her. He made to lie next to her but she pushed him away wordlessly with a foreleg.

Quietly, as if her breath were the dawn, she asked one more thing of him, "Nengwe, go find him. Find Aslan."

The lion looked on, pained to see his mate in such a state. "But I can't. I can't find him!"

"Go! Do this one thing for me: find him. I need him, please!"

Panic flooded over Nengwe. Something was wrong, agonisingly wrong. Something so serious only one lion, Aslan, could help. Nudging Falana with his nose he whispered, "I'll find him Falana. Don't worry, I'll find him."

Yet he was worried. He was afraid he would lose everything that mattered, his mate and his cubs. Aslan must have been wrong: he would lose his cubs. He padded back out into the dawn, Aslan's Dawn. It had to be. He took one look back to Falana. It so distressed him to see her like that that he closed his eyes and lowered his head as he turned once more to face the bright morning sun. What right had everything got to look so bright, so fresh; so alive when everything he was was dying? Where was Aslan now? Where? He roared and ran out and down on to the plain. Running, running, here, there, back again. Roaring, growling, lashing out. Crying.

Nengwalamwe stayed out until sunset, going as far as the southern bluffs, then, his fury spent, turned back to the rock dejected. He couldn't go back, not without Aslan, and anyway it would be too late by now. Too late for everything. He turned again; to Silent Rocks. Why had he even come to this place? Why had he had to meet Falana? Why? Why? Why had he met that crazy monkey Mtundu who now sat watching him from atop one of the boulders? Yes, he was crazy alright, but too crazy to ever be food. Not too crazy as to not keep well out of the lion's reach. Mtundu knew Nengwe well enough to feel safe this close, but there was no value in taking too many chances.

"Aslan? Who the heck's Aslan?"

"A lion."

"Ya know there ain't any lion around here but you."

Nengwe felt stupid for asking.

"Yes, I know he's not here. I'm looking you see."

"Eh? What's eatin' ya Nengwe? I ain't never seen you near so riled up as this."

"Falana, she's…"

"She didn't send you out here? Has she had those cubs o'yours already?"

"No, not yet. Very soon maybe but she's not well, something's really wrong."

"She sent you out on a wild goose chase for a lion you know ain't here?"

"Come on Mutt, this isn't helping. Take this seriously, or get out of my way."

"Nengwe, I ain't no expert here, but do you know what the biggest threat to new born lion cubs is?"

"Well…"

"Yeah, that's it: their own father. You know how Falana is, and I know how you are. If she was goin' to have her cubs she'd not want you anywhere near, but you bein' you, you'd just not want to leave her. So, how's she gonna git rid of ya?"

"Send me looking for Aslan?"

"Oh yeah! That's Falana alright. I guess I get to call you Dad now huh?"

"Yeah! No! Do you really think?"

"Sure Nengwe, she can look after herself. She's been looking after you well enough. Cubs gonna be a breeze."

Nengwe turned to make off. Mtundu stopped him with a well tossed pebble. "Woah there. You're not going to find her either. You don' find a lion mother, she finds you: when she's good and ready."

Mtundu was right about one thing: when Nengwe rushed into the cave it was empty. Falana was gone. Nengwe waited, too tense to hunt, too confused to do anything. He just waited, and paced, and waited, and cleaned, and waited. Then one evening several days later, just before sunset she returned, beside her wobbled two impossibly small cubs.


End file.
